


The Product of a Dysfunctional Family

by forgetful01



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Dysfunctional Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humanstuck, Hurt/Comfort, Other, family au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:40:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetful01/pseuds/forgetful01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>horrible horrible family au that is going to be horribly angsty and yet teeth rottingly fluffy because lizzy is terrible and encourages me to start a new fic series when ive already got two going on</p><p>also what schoolwork i have to finish to graduate there is no schoolwork what are you speaking about</p><p>(title credit: dysfunctional family by cinema bizzarre)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome home Gamzee Makara

Your name, respectfully, is Kurloz Makara and you and your little brother are practically alone in the world. Well, in some ways at least. He had you and you had him, but that was about it. But that’s how it had been for most of your life. It was only over the past few years that Gamzee began to drift away from you, his innocent and carefree smile morphing into a frown of disdain and contempt.

You had raised him from a small child to the teenager he is now. When he was much younger, he’d never leave your side. One of your earliest memories of him was after your Dad had brought him home from the hospital, alone. You didn’t have to ask what happened as he handed the faintly wiggling mass of blankets over to you without a word, you didn’t need to inquire as to why your mother had not come home with them. You moved some of the cloth aside to reveal his face, chubby and inquisitive. Small tufts of jet black curly hair was on the top of his head, softer than feathers as you ran your fingers over it carefully. His oddly indigo tinted pupils widened as he looked up at you then gave a gurgle of a giggle, his chubby little arms lifting up to you the best they could.

In that moment you fell in love with your brother.

The week after he was brought home was the funeral. You and family members donned in black, and you kept your head down as your father sat beside you. His pale hair had turned whiter, and he hadn’t shaved for the occasion. You held your wriggling little brother in your arms securely, humming in a muted voice when he got a little too fussy. Your dad didn’t offer to hold him. He hardly looked at Gamzee as it was. In the long open room of the church, the only sounds to be heard were your Uncle Grant’s long winded preach and Gamzee’s faint gurgling.

Thankfully, this was your last year of high school so you could focus all of your attention on your brother. Your dad had developed a bad habit of coming home later and later, to the point that you struggled to finish your schoolwork while heating up the bottle for Gamzee to a correct temperature. He was a well natured infant, in actuality, and hardly caused a fuss. It was only at night that things seemed to be bad.

You had long since moved his crib into your room, since your Dad hardly came home these days. Regular checks still came in the mail, ensuring your financial security, but past that he wasn’t doing much for you or Gamzee. It seemed almost every night, around the same time, you’d be dragged from your sleep to hear him wailing pitifully, kicking the blankets off of his small body. You were only on the cusp of adulthood; you had no idea how to comfort a child so young. But each night you’d lift him into your arms, rubbing soothing circles into his back, humming until his cries eventually died down and he’d fall asleep against your bony shoulder.

Around nine months is when he spoke his first word. He’d long been sitting in a high chair as you fed him breakfast, dark rimmed circles around your eyes from the lack of sleep. You had hoped that after time went by and he got older, the nightly awakenings would cease, or at least decrease. Instead they’d been getting worse. You thought about taking him to a doctor vaguely, as he lazily and sloppily took spoonful’s of the breakfast you offered. He was an extremely sloppy child, even back then. But as you wiped some of the lingering food from dribbling onto his chin with a napkin, he gurgled out something.

It was your name.

“Loz!”

Your grin spread from a patient amusement to one of full on happiness. You chuckled and playfully, gently, pinched his cheek. He giggled out, wiggling his arms and nearly toppled the bowl on the high chair over, repeating out your name in his high pitched trill. “Loz! Loz, Loz!”

His first word had been your name. Now, he won’t even acknowledge your presence it if wasn’t to mock it or tell you to shut up, even if you hadn’t been talking.


	2. Just the two of us

Oh how time flew.

School eventually started, if eventually could be considered a blink of your eye. Little Gamzee, your little brother whose first word had been your name, held your hand tightly in his as you walked him up the steps of the elementary school. He hadn’t gone to preschool, or kindergarten. But the regular checks in the mail from your Dad’s work, wherever he was, was getting lighter and lighter in amount. Finding a job was the only choice anymore, and Gamzee had to start school. On the surface, he was still the dazed and absent minded child you knew, but you could tell he was nervous by the way he chewed his nails to stumps. You gave him a small smile, which he returned, and promised to pick him up after the day was over.

You got a job in your Uncle’s factory, a package boy. Uncle Grant stressed the importance of delivering them on time and to keep your head down, not ask too many questions. You obliged almost without a word. You needed the money and despite Grant’s shady reputation with his business, you knew better than to turn the job offer down. So you kept your head down, didn’t ask questions, and tried to deliver whatever box or envelope you were handed in a timely manner. Your shift ran late, and by the time the first school day ended you dragged yourself home with a sleepy Gamzee on your shoulders as the sun began to set. He’d waited on the steps of the school the entire time. Waiting until you arrived.

Things were tough and Gamzee’s nightly cries only seemed to be getting worse. You took him to a doctor about midway through his first grade year. The doctor was a bald man with a complexion so pale it was nearly see-through. Under his white coat he were bright green suspenders and his receptionist, a pessimistic looking teenage girl with her hair up in a bun, offered you tea. You politely declined and Gamzee accepted, only for him to grimace at the bitter taste. He was always more partial to the cheap soda you’d bring home.

The doctor explained that the symptoms pointed to a condition called night terrors, and explained that they could go away on their own. But the bags under your eyes and the sleepy gaze in Gamzee’s stated quite plainly that you both couldn’t wait that long. After some going back and forth, the doctor finally explained there was no real treatment for the condition and you nearly pleaded with the man to give your little brother anything to help. Finally you left with two prescriptions in your hand, a sleep aid and a dose of Ritalin. Gamzee hung around your shoulders, legs wrapped round your neck and arms round your head, chin resting on the crown of your skull and asked you what the medicine was about for what felt like the hundredth time.

Gamzee took the medicine without argument. You had set an alarm on your phone so you could be on time with the dosages, considering how your little brother wouldn’t even remember taking his pill half the time. Work was hard for you and school was long for him, but you both made it through with only a few scratches. It wasn’t so bad, you figure. The years rolled on, Gamzee took his medication, and you slowly moved up the corporate ladder. Then came the news from Dad.

Your little brother was thirteen at the time when he came home from school to find you standing in the middle of the room. His smile elated his face, asked if Dad was going to come home today as promised. You took him into your arms and held him close.

You were both alone now.


End file.
